The Eight Problems With Tony Stark
by ShinkonoKokoro
Summary: Implied  and sometimes not so subtle  Tony/Steve.  Steve has a few complaints. Not that he would ever tell Tony.
1. Chapter 1

_The first problem with Tony Stark was that he thought he was smarter than every one._

* * *

><p><em>The second problem with Tony Stark was that he probably was smarter than everyone. <em>

Steve sighed, remembering the way Tony grinned at him, sort of seeing through him, he thought, clapped him on the arm and said, "You're living in the future, kid."

'Kid.' Steve was older than Anthony Stark by decades. And every time he called Steve 'kid,' it grated a little bit more. But he stuck by Iron Man because he was so much like his father. And his father had been brilliant. Steve had been living in the future with Howard Stark's creations, and now that Tony had carried on Howard's legacy of being brilliant, well. Steve was twice as behind on the times as he had expected. So he stuck around to see his brilliance. Maybe out of a little obligation to Howard to see that his kid turned out alright.

* * *

><p><em>The third problem with Tony Stark was that he always multi-tasked, doing fifteen things at once<em>.

Steve writhed on Tony's bed, making embarrassing breathy noises he associated with Victorian romances and dainty women on their fainting couches when faced with broad shoulders. Tony was bent over him, words tumbling out of his mouth as he made Steve sweat and arc up into Tony's capable hands. Focusing in on the syllables, Steve grabbed Tony's biceps and held him still. "Are you...are you on your _blue tooth_!"

Tony blinked down at him, eyes snapping to. "Uh. Yes. Notes. To myself. For a project. Do you mind? Can we continue?"

"I..." At a lose for words, Steve shook his head and pushed Tony off. "I can't _believe _you!"

"What. What? I was doing a good job, right? Hit you where it matters."

Steve flushed, ducking his head. "That's not the point!"

"Oh. Is it about the attention part? Because I was paying you plenty of attention. Look, still standing," he quipped, gesturing down to his crotch. "I can go on. I mean, if you want."

"Tony..." Dropping his head into his hands, Steve didn't remember how they got to this point. Somewhere in between Tony's last slip into drinking and a bar and then some fumbling after Steve mistakenly said Tony looked just like his dad, and the wrestling ending on Tony's bed after a particularly dangerous mission. He was so out of his depth. "Can we just... Can it just be _us,_ for once? No projects, no business, no one else."

Tony sighed and mumbled some last comments into the blue tooth before spreading his hands for peace. "There. All done. Happy? Can we get back to...business?"

He was an enabler. He was obviously an enabler, and he indulged Tony much too frequently to be healthy. But... "Come on then."

* * *

><p><em>The fourth problem with Tony Stark was that he cared too much.<em>

"To—Iron Man! Iron Man, fall _back_!" Steve felt his heart in his chest as he watched the building coming down, the familiar flash of red and gold that made his friend think he was invincible disappearing into the falling chunks. "You can't save everyone!" He bellowed, though he knew that Tony couldn't hear him. Or maybe he could. He never really knew what Tony was capable of. Thor was at his side as he dashed towards the rubble, frantically shovelling pieces aside to get to Tony and whatever survivors there were with him beneath it all. "_Iron Man_!"

"He is fine. I am certain," Thor grunted as he swung his hammer and debris scattered across the street.

But Steve saw the worry crease his brow, and he dug faster. "Tony!" He fell backwards with the force of the blast that carried concrete up into the air, seeing Thor's arm fly up to cover his face out of the corner of his eye.

"Fine! I'm fine," Tony's voice blasted in his ear. Well shoot. He'd forgotten the blasted things that Tony insisted they install in their helmets slash head-gear in order to communicate.

"And you couldn't tell us that sooner, you ass!" Steve snapped, getting to his feet as more rubble flew into the air and gradually Iron Man became visible. Along with a handful of rescuees.

"Sorry, sorry. Static."

"You're not sorry, at all, Tony!"

"Alright then, folks. You all okay?"

"Son of a b—"

"My friend," Thor interrupted. "You might wish to save this until later."

Steve scowled, adjusted his shield and stalked away. It wasn't like this was unusual. Not for Anthony Stark. He presented the perfect front of being an ass the size of Texas, but working with the man, one saw past that fairly easily to find the heart of (red and) gold beneath. Always pushing himself past some personal limit, fuelled onwards by nightmares of what he was in the past and what could happen in the future.

Tony made it up to him later, but sometimes, when the man thought he was asleep, Steve could see the way his shoulders sloped down, the way his head hung, the way his fists pounded his thighs, and the way he stood by his window and gazed out over the city, muscles tense.

* * *

><p><em>The fifth problem with Tony Stark was he was always busy<em>.

"Tony? Tony, I'm home." Steve dumped his bag next to the door, sighing. In the garage, he was sure, as usual. His lip curled up. His blind devotion to his pet projects kept behind locked doors. His shoes clacked on the floors as he headed towards the basement, dropping his jacket over the back of the sofa and toeing off the shoes as he walked. "Tony! Did you want dinner? I'm going to sta—Shit! Tony!" Steve rushed forward, falling to his knees. He rolled Tony over and shook him lightly. He was breathing. He was alive. "Tony. Tony! Wake up!"

Tony groaned, eyelids twitching. "Steve...?"

"I'm right here, Tony. What's the matter? What do you need?"

"Just...tired..." His hand came up, touching his head gingerly. "I'm fine... I think I just passed out."

Heaving a sigh, Steve sat back on his heels. "You're an idiot. You 'just' passed out? Passed out from exhaustion, Tony! You need to sleep! You need to take care of yourself!"

"That's why I have you, don't I..." He croaked, trying to sit.

Steve helped him up, draping him around his shoulders. "You probably haven't slept all week, you idiot. Can you even remember? Nothing's so pressing that you need to do this to yourself..." He walked Tony to his bedroom, pulling the bedspread down to lay him out.

"Instead of berating me, you mother hen, do something useful."

"Hmph." Steve glared at him and stripped down to his boxers, climbing in beside Tony and pulling him back against his chest, effectively keeping him in place. "We're sleeping until I wake up tomorrow morning. And if that is by you elbowing me, I'm rolling on top of you and falling back asleep. Got it?"

"Yes, mom," Tony drawled, ending in a yawn. He was out in thirty seconds, leaving Steve to cherish the small amount of time he had to bask in Tony's company, being just with Tony.

* * *

><p><em>The sixth problem with Tony Stark was that he had to have his finger in all the pies.<em>

"What're ya doing?" Steve asked, sauntering into Tony's garage. Garage. That was like calling the Empire State building a shack. It was more of a mad scientist's laboratory crossed with a mechanic's yard. But Tony always said 'the garage,' so that's what it was.

"Um. Sorting." Tony answered eventually. Machines moved and virtual screens of information that made Steve's head spin flew around, stacking and reordering.

"Sorting what?"

"Nothing."

"Tony..." Steve drawled, "this is hardly nothing." He skirted piles of scrap and half-finished projects until he was standing next to Tony in his usual tee—the core reactor shining through—and protective lenses.

"Oh. Steve. Hi. I'm..." he trailed off, distracted, hands moving quickly over four keyboards.

Steve sighed.

"Stock." A minute later. "SI." Tilted his head and swore, snapping something out on the virtual keys. "SHIELD."

Frowning, he scooted closer to peer over Tony's shoulder. "You know it's tomorrow, right?"

"The eighth."

"No. The seventh," Steve countered.

"China."

"Geeze." Steve dragged a hand over his face. "And I'm sure you haven't eaten for three days, have you."

Tony spared a second to glare at him and then went back to typing furiously, swivelling between keyboards. "Just...second..."

"Find me when you're done. Here. I'll even write it for you." He searched around for tape and tacked it to Tony's arm. He made it to the door when Tony's voice called him back. "What, Tony. You're preoccupied. You're not listening."

"Is it something important?"  
>"Well.." Steve let his feet carry him back towards Tony.<p>

"Yes or no?"

"I don't know... I mean. To me, yes. But to you, apparently not."

"What." Tony pushed the glasses up onto his head. "Spit it out."

Shaking his head, Steve felt the familiar irritation spike to the service. "I'm not just another one of your projects you can push to the side when you've got more pressing matters."

"Oh." His eyebrows jumped quickly and then he shrugged, peeling off the gloves he wore. "Sorry. I—"

"Do you even know what you're sorry for?" Steve folded his arms across his chest.

There was a far-away quality to Tony's eyes for a moment. Probably checking his schedule. Thanks to Pepper. "Oh. Yes. Yes, I'm sorry. I got distracted. Obviously."

"Obviously..."

"Well. We can. Dinner tonight instead? The restaurant will reschedule our reservation for me. All I have to do is call. I'll shower even."

"You're a terrible boyfriend."

"I make it up to you with sex..."

He could feel his cheeks light up. "So what was all...this."

"Oh. Business."

"You mentioned something—"

"There were stock issues with Stark International; I had to buy some back. Sell some. And then Fury was pissed about the incident in Caalifornia and he needed facts double-checked. Thor was..." Tony shook his head. "You know what. Not important. There were issues with the labeling company that I bought and some of the legislative issues in Congress were...not what I wanted. It's all sorted."

"You just have to have a piece of everything, don't you."

"You know, if I weren't so invested in making the world a better place, I think I would be the best super-villain there ever was. The world's a mess, and it would be better if I just rule it."

Rolling his eyes, Steve reached out and tweaked Tony's ear. "You'd be a terrible villain and you know it. You'd be obsessed with your villain costume. Now. Shower like you threatened, and let's go for dinner. Maybe then I'll give you your anniversary gift. If I decide you're worth it."

Tony grinned. "Right. One more email to StarkTech, and then I'll be right up."

Shaking his head with fondness, Steve wandered back upstairs to change and wait. He could always strip and walk around upstairs. Jarvis always sent pings down to Tony (who thought Steve was unaware) to notify him when he was nude.

* * *

><p><em>The seventh problem with Tony Stark was that he was always right.<em>

"Listen, just listen. To me. I know you don't understand, I know you haven't made all the connections. I have. And I know you think I'm full of shit. But by God, you're going to listen!" He hissed at the Avengers. "This is the wrong guy. We're in the wrong place. The attack is going down on the other side of town."

"How do you kno—"

"I know because I'm smart."

"And the rest of us aren't?" Steve countered hotly.

"No—yes. Yes, but I'm smarter. You're not seeing the bigger picture. And we don't have time to sit here and debate it! Now are you going to trust me or what? I'm going. Anyone going to follow and back me up? Cap? Thor? Widow?"

"Yes..." Steve sighed and walked over, looping his arms around Tony's neck. "I trust him. He's not always kind about it, but I trust him."

Thor looked dubious, but nodded finally.

"Good. Let's go." And Iron Man shot into the air, Thor grabbing Hawkeye, and the rest following as they could.

_The eighth problem with Tony Stark was that he was broken._

Lots of brains and creative power and business mojo leaves very little time for a family life, Steve surmised from the bitter tones that seeped from Tony's voice when he talked about his father. And it hurt, because all Steve wanted to do was share how brilliant and kind and funny his father was. But Tony didn't want to hear it. He even sounded jealous whenever Steve brought up his dad.

It hurt for another reason too. That disconnect between the bright man he'd known during the war and the devouring old man he'd become. Made Steve glad he hadn't been around to see Howard. It would have broke his heart.

So Steve kept his lips shut after the first few times that positive comments about Tony's father ended up with him stonewalled in bed and ignored during the day. Steve learned. So instead he listened, waited until the wounds weren't so raw. Until Tony was ready to listen.

Maybe when he wasn't so ready to be peering back down into that bottle. He was so afraid Tony would slip, that something would make him wobble, and that slight aberration would be enough to end the tenuous control that Tony seemed to exhibit over the drinking. He always seemed so close to the edge, like if Steve saw him out of the corner of his eye, he could see the picture clearly of Tony leaning over the edge of the cliff, hands tucked into his pockets, daring the fates to sweep him away. Made Steve unable to breathe.

So he set himself up as Tony's defence, shielding him from whatever he could, the only thing he knew he could be. Made it as safe as possible.

Sometimes...Sometimes when they fell into bed and Tony had him caged and feeling small, he thought Tony knew. When he would kiss him with such tenderness that it might have been a thank you without words. But he could never been sure, because when Tony's hands were pressing him down and he was buried in mindless pleasure and release.

Steve would never want it, but he couldn't help but think if Tony were a little less of a genius, he would be happier. His mind made him who he is; it made him Iron Man, and there's not a lot of people who could fill his shoes (see Problem 1), but there were times between Shield work and the Avengers and Stark Industries when he found himself wishing a trip to just get Tony to relax and sleep and be off the radar for a few days. Like the only time he got to see him relaxed wasn't after he'd been up for three days straight fighting and working and sexing and arguing and buying and creating and planning and selling and ordering...when he finally fell asleep next to Steve. Even then his fingers would twitch as if on some keyboard, making blueprints or sending emails.

Steve just watched him then, sometimes. Leaning on his elbow until his back got stiff. He hardly had time to heal before something else in life would knock him down and he'd have to rebuild. Steve hoped that maybe with two hands, maybe it would go faster. Maybe Tony would rely on him more. And maybe that wasn't a problem at all.


	2. The Newest Problem

The problem with Tony Stark when it wasn't Tony Stark himself was that he was the Avengers' greatest asset. He was their go-to guy for tech and money and space and (on extremely rare occasions) advice. He was also an excellent tactical planner, stuck to his guns, kept his head under fire, and had a mind for strategy. If he weren't so independent and distracted off the battle field and out of the planning room, he would have made an excellent soldier. He was one of the team's most mobile members, being capable of aerial work, hard-hitting, and both long and close-range fighting.

However, as Tony was their greatest asset, he was also one of their biggest liabilities. And this, to be fair, wasn't _all_ Tony's fault. If Tony was taken out, then the team lost all of those things. It also meant there was no one to step up to explain technology or fix any of Tony's gadgets if something went wrong. Heaven forbid someone actually try to make _sense_ of the man's plans. And good luck pinning him down long enough to write an instruction manual.

It made Steve grateful that their enemies didn't realise the quickest way to put them in the ground would be to remove Tony Stark from the equation and then hit them with some sort of technological attack. So he guarded Tony's back a little more carefully than the others. A good soldier knew that he had to protect his assets.

Except for today. Today they'd gotten separated. Which resulted in Tony being hit with some sort of beam that sent him flying into a crumpled heap of—intact—armour. Steve and Thor had double teamed the flavour-of-the-day villain and Natasha bound him more tightly than necessary.

"To—Iron Man? Iron Man, can you hear me?" Steve demanded, kneeling next to his fallen friend.

"Fine. I'm fine. I can't—the armour's out of sync. I can't move it. You'll have to get Thor to carry me back or something," came the mechanised voice. Even if it did sound strained.

"Thank God." Steve sat back on his heels, the rest of the team gathering close. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No. No no. I'm fine. I'm okay. I'll take it off in my workshop. Steve, help me up."

He got behind him and lifted under his shoulders, Thor taking his feet.

"Shit. This is embarrassing."

Natasha and Clint laughed, Thor trying his best to smother his grin.

"Alright. Let's go," Steve said. "Natasha, report to Fury. We'll meet you back at the mansion."

* * *

><p>"If I prop you up, can you stand?" Steve asked as everyone else left the workshop.<p>

"I...don't think so. Um... grab the whirly wrench from my workbench."

"I know what a socket wrench is, Tony." Steve rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Right. Um. Okay, listen. Steve. I'm not... I'm not really okay. I'm—Jesus! I'm fine! Don't attack my armour, you monkey! I'm not _wounded_. That beam made me different."

Steve stilled his hands and pulled back. "Different?" Moving again, he hurried the nuts and bolts out carefully, removing gauntlets, boots, helmet, and finally the chest piece, gaping.

Tony shifted his small limbs, flushing. "See..."

"Oh my God. Tony. You're adorable!" Reaching out slowly, Steve petted the round cheeks and touched dusty blonde hair. "You were a blonde as a kid?"

Flushing more, Tony batted his hands away. "Get me out."

Steve obliged and pulled him from the suit, holding him out in front of him with a sort of awe. "Oh my gosh. Look at your pouty lips!"

"Yes, yes. We all know how strong you are. Now _put __me __down_!" he snapped, the child-voice higher and softer. "Damn, this sucks!"

Steve sat on a bench and tucked Tony into his lap. "Tony! You were—are—such an adorable child."

"So you've said. Now stop it! You realise this means we can't have sex, right? Unless you're into that."

Steve felt his face pull into an expression of horror. "No! I could never do that!"

"Yeah. See," he said grumpily, folding his arms across his chest in a sulk.

"What are we going to tell the others?"

"I'd rather tell them nothing, but I have no idea how to fix this."

"We'll have to to question General What's-his-name then.

Humming in agreement, Tony topped off Steve's lap and ran a finger through is hair in a gesture so _Tony_ that Steve wanted him full-size so he could push him up against the nearest wall. Or grab him up to his chest and cuddle him in a way that Tony never let him when he could wriggle his way out of it. "Well. May as well break the news."

* * *

><p>The Avengers all leapt to their feet and scrambled for their masks, someone screeching, "Oh my God! Is that your kid?"<p>

Steve blinked, sent an appalled look at Tony and then shook his head frantically, the words unable to come out of his mouth suddenly.

Tony let his hands drag down his face as he groaned. "Jesus. You're all insufferably dense..."

Interestingly, it was Peter, Spider-Man mask haphazardly over his face as he actually stood on the floor for once who got it. "Tony!" And gaped, his chin hanging out of the bottom.

Tony put on his best people-pleaser grin (made heart-melting child-size), arms spread wide. "Surprise!"

Jessica slapped her hands over her mouth, but not before the words tumbled out. "Oh my God, you're adorable!"

Cheeks pinking, he coughed. "Right. Well. I don't know how to fix this..."

Thor frowned down at him, skirting the table, chin cupped in his hand. "Thou are even smaller now, my friend."

Tony glared, the effect not at all intimidating with his round cheeks and soft hair. Steve looked away so as to reduce the effect. "That's because I'm a _child_. I'm probably about eight or ten. Hard to say.

Jessica squeaked and ducked out of the room.

"You know..." child Tony drawled. "I usually am aware of my effect on women, but it hasn't been this potent in years."

Steve snickered, stopping when Tony stamped a tiny foot on his own.

"Am I really that charming?"

"Like you need that ego boost," Steve said at the same time Thor said, "Thou art truly an attractive human child."

Tony preened.

"Oh for pity's..." Natasha stood suddenly.

"Hold on..." Peter said. "I think we're looking at this as too _small_ of a problem..."

"Subtle, Peter. Really subtle." Tony giggled though.

"Great," Natasha said sourly. "This is not good."

"Thanks, madame obvious," Peter muttered, flopping himself into a chair.

"Where's Clint?" Tony asked.

"With Logan. They're in the kitchen. Discussing...something," Natasha said.

"Right. Well..."

"We could wait to see if it wears off?" Peter suggested.

"That's never a good plan," Tony said, folding his arms.

"We could ask Reed?" Steve said.

"Hey, why did Je—_holy__fuck_," Clint gaped at the sight of Tony, Logan's eyes widening behind him.

"What the...!"

"Logan. Clint. Nice of you to join us," Tony said. "As you can see. I've been de-aged."

Clint walked forward carefully, hand reaching out.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Idiot. I'm real and I'm myself. Logan?"

"Smells like him alright. Just not all the sex."

Steve flushed and turned away. "Right! Well, then it looks like we're going to have to rework things so that our formation doesn't get thrown out of wack."

"What? Steve, don't be ridiculous. I can still be a part of this team." Tony frowned, his brow furrowing and cheeks dimpling with displeasure.

"Hell. No."

Most of the team looked to Steve in surprise. He flushed as he realised the words that had passed his lips. "You're a..._child_! You're not going out to the front lines to fight!"

"Oh honestly... This is ridiculous..."

"Mom and Dad fighting..." Peter muttered.

"Shut it!"

"Hm. Yeah, that's awkward. Now that it looks like Dad and Son."

"Peter," Tony snapped. "Not. Helping."

He grinned in response. "Ooh, what will Pepper say? She ever seen you as a kid?"

Tony unexpectedly turned pale. "Shit." Then looked at Steve. "We are _not_ done with this conversation. Rework the roster, _whatever_, but this does _not_ get back to Pepper." He looked around the room. "Do you all understand. I'll be in my workshop. Just tell her I'm unavailable. And at _all_ costs, do_not_ let her down there? Am I clear?"

Most of the members nodded, Clint, Natasha, and Peter smirking and giggling.

"I will do terrible things to you if you tell her," he threatened, looking, again, adorable. And then fled downstairs.

Steve sighed. "Hopefully, that will keep him busy until we can get him back to normal. And keep him off the field." People nodded around the room, wincing as a horrible racket of opera filled the house. "To-nyyyyy!" Steve bellowed and stalked downstairs to bang on the -locked- workroom doors.

* * *

><p>A week later and the problem still hadn't been solved. The crew had made vague excuses to Pepper, put off by actually getting a hold of him via phone, Tony using a voice modulator to recreate his voice. Mostly, though, he stayed hidden downstairs, the racket only rarely making it upstairs. Luck too, was on their side when it came to enemies. Apparently, no one really knew about Tony being out of the game. As Murphy's Law would have it, though, as soon as Steve muttered the thought to Peter, there was an alert for help from the Avengers.<p>

"Go. Don't need a babysitter," Tony's voice said over the intercom.

"Creepy how he does that," Peter commented.

Steve grunted in reply and then hurried to his room for his uniform, meeting everyone in the lobby, rushing off to the site given to them by Fury. In the midst of battle, just when things could go both ways, when he was wishing for Tony's cheeky presence, a small _silver __armoured_ figure swooped in over the battle and blasted the crazed man-ape gone-wrong thing with his repulsors and then knocking out some of its servant bots in a few swift moves that made Steve jealous of his smarts.

"Checking in for duty!" the figure said, dropping in front of Steve with a jaunty salute.

"I'm going to _kill_ you... I hope you know that," Steve grit out, glowering as he let his shield loose. Fortunately, Tony was easy to keep an eye one, despite his aerial acrobatics. And when the fight was over, Steve clamped a hand onto Tony's armoured wrist and dragged him back to the mansion, much to the amusement of everyone else.

"He's _really_ going to get it..." Peter commented lowly as everyone petered off towards their own rooms to leave the two of them to fight.

Steve was a little bit grateful, a little bit ashamed that his demeanour told them they'd need to clear off to give them space. "Take it off," Steve ordered, voice low and rough.

Tony snorted inside the helmet, the noise translating fuzzily.

"Take it. _Off_. You deliberately disobeyed me, Tony."

"Oh come _on_... You needed help. I put this together just in case. You can't honestly expe—"

"What if you were hurt." Steve folded his arms over his chest and glared down at Tony, knowing _his_ glare was not at all adorable and endearing.

"I wasn't."

"You _always_ do this, Tony!" Steve hissed, trying hard to keep the volume down. "You're careless with your own life even when you know there are others that care for you and don't want to see you hurt."

The helmet rolled side to side like Tony was easing his shoulders before the faceplate flipped up and the armour set aside on the table. "You looked like you needed help. I wanted to help," he said sullenly, lips pouty and eyes downcast.

Steve sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Listen, Tony. I understand that you want to help. I really do. I just.. You can't go out there as you are. You're just a kid—"

"Physically!"

"Physically," Steve conceded, "but kids are more fragile, and I don't want anything to happen to you. You understand."

"You're talking to me like I'm a child, Steve."

"For all your years, Tony, you behave like a child. Now you've just got the appearance of one as well."

"Harsh," he said mildly, looking up to meet Steve's eyes.

"But is it false?"

Tony shrugged.

"_Tony_."

"I need to _help_, okay!" He snapped finally. "I need to..." His hands balled into little fists

Steve knelt to eye-level. Put his hands on Tony's shoulders, only then noticing how big they really were. "And I need to protect."

Tony blinked at him in surprise, eyes looking a little bright.

"I need you to be okay. You're so little. I can't... I don't want you getting hurt. I need you safe. And if you being safe is not in the field, then I can do my job. Properly."

"You've been protecting me..." Tony said dully, looking unhappily at the floor. "I still..." His voice broke and he sighed, looking up towards the ceiling and blinking.

Oh. "Oh Tony... It's not... It's not because you're not capable!" Steve said quickly, pulling him in for a hug. "It's not because I don't trust you... It's because you're our most valuable asset! Geeze!"

"What?" He leaned stiffly against Steve's shoulder.

"If you go out, who's going to fix our tech? Who's going to get us the answers that we need lightning fast? You're so smart, Tony. Look at what you've been able to do!"

"Because I'm not a superhero?"

"But you_are_. And what's even more impressive is that you've done it all on your own, Tony." He felt Tony relax against him, and stroked his back gently.

"Okay. Enough," he said softly. "Careful of boosting my ego too much."

Steve laughed softly. "Your ego is a strange thing, Tony. You might be one of the most insecure confident men I've ever met." He felt the giggles before he heard them.

"You sure know how to turn a compliment..."

"Mm. Now will you please stay safe until you're back to normal?"

"I'll stay safe, Steve, but I won't stay _away_." Tony stepped back, taking hold of one of Steve's hands in both of his smaller ones. "Because I can't not protect you too."

Steve huffed, but the smile tugged at his lips anyway. "Tony Stark. Always has to do everything." He stood. "Come on. I'm tired. Let's go to bed."

Tony arched a brow at him. "I thought you didn't do—"

"Jesus, Tony. No. Not _that_." He flushed. "To _sleep_."

Tony grinned. "Alright. I guess I can handle that for a night."

"You'll get to be my own personal teddy bear."

Sticking out a tongue, he brushed passed Steve. "Ugh. No."

* * *

><p>Steve woke early with Tony curled entirely into his body. He could hardly contain his grin as he nuzzled the top of his head and nestled back into the bed to sleep some more.<p>

He woke again later when Tony kicked him accidentally in the shin while trying to extricate himself to go to the bathroom. "Get off, you cling-on." He stretched and padded to the bathroom in some drawstring shorts of Steve's that, on Tony, looked more like pants.

He grinned even wider, still stupid with sleep. "Tony, you're too adorable. I can't wait 'til you're bigger again. Then I can have sex with you..." He buried his nose in Tony's part of the bed, inhaling. "Show you how much I think you're adorable." He dozed lightly, calling out when Tony didn't return after a short while. "What are you doing...?" Nothing. "Tony?" Then he _was_ fully awake, bursting into the bathroom, cursing as the door cracked into something and Tony groaned. Deep and full-bodied. As in _normal_ Tony sounds. He peered around the door and edged himself in to kneel next to Tony. "Are you okay?"

"Be better if you hadn't nearly brained me..." He groaned.

Steve smiled.

"You sicko. You're into masochism?" Tony accused as he lifted a hand to his head and tried sitting. "Gotta love those things that wear off by themself unexpectedly."

Grabbing him up, Steve carried him back to the bed and set him down, kissing him fiercely.

"H-hey! Might have...brain damage here...and you can only...think of...kissing me breathless?" he teased around Steve's lips.

The thought still caused him pause. "Oh geeze. I didn't really hurt you, did I?"

"I'm fine..."

"How come you're back to normal?"

"Steve..." Tony groaned," you're not looking a gift horse in the mouth again, are you?"

Steve pulled back, kneeling over Tony. "Absolutely not. I just want... Well. Glad you're okay. Sex now?"

"_Yes_ please." And allowed himself to be ravaged fully.


	3. Tony's Not a Loose Cannon

Steve's nerves were forged in battle, from the first moment he stood up to a kid twice his size for laying into a kid one and a half times his size. From the moment that he joined the wrestling team in school to try and get himself some even ground only to be ground into the mat time and time again. From the moment he fought in that alley and made himself get up again and again. From the moment that he threw himself on the grenade, a million thoughts flying through his mind until it finally settled on: at least the rest of them are safe. From the moment that he charged into battle, ill-advised with only a woman and a civilian on his side. From the moment he went down with the plane and then woke up in a strange world that is and is not his own. From the moment that he joined a team of people who mostly had the same goals as himself: serve and protect. From the moment that those types of decisions became his life. He doesn't regret a bit of it.

So he can recognise nerves of steel in others, respect them even. It's how he sees Tony Stark's so quickly. And irritated or not by his demeanour at first, he respected Tony for his sticking to his decisions. Despite how much of a loose cannon Nicky Fury seemed to think Tony was.

After learning Tony's life, Steve can tell you that it's decidedly not true.

Tony grew up in the public eye, always under pressure. Maybe that's why, he'd tell you in confidence when he's sure no one's listening, he didn't freak out too badly when he was held captive in the middle east. Already building incredible things by the age of four, Tony had his father's genius to live and look up to. He breezed through school, surrounded by his machines at home, entering MIT at the age of 15. He was a genius. Howard's boy. Like father like son. The public's darling. (Later the public's favourite front page disaster.) There were always expos and publicised meetings and interviews and charity events for which he performed.

And, Steve figured, Tony had created this public persona that could be trashed and used and criticised and made a whipping boy, so long as he could create and build and have space to do his own thing in his own time. Hence his workroom downstairs and Iron Man. In the quiet of his workroom, Tony was an emotionally sober man who figured out where his boundaries were and what he could get away with. "Tony Stark" was a man who could get away with a lot in the public eye, and they would forgive him for it, because 'that's just Tony.' And hey, he made good news. The papers and magazines and blogs could tear him apart, for all he cared, so long as they got a good story out of his exploits. So he very carefully didn't care and made a public nuisance of himself. Because it didn't matter. Tony had his inventions and his crazy bouts of brilliance, making him who he was. He was calculating. Always looking at things.

His mind was already so far ahead of everyone else that he didn't need to get flustered. He didn't need to freak out. His brain skipped right over that and had already begun working on three different plans to get himself out of his current mess. So Tony doesn't need to bother with the minor concerns of normal people. He just needs to kick his brain into gear and machinate a way out for himself.

So when Tony Stark looses control, it's either a calculated outlet, or it's a very bad sign.

This time, since they've no audience, Steve is going to take a wild guess and propose that it's a _very__bad__sign_.

Taking small steps up towards his tense back, Steve nibbles on his lip whilst trying to figure the best way to broach the verbal outburst that lead to Tony turning his face away, hands probably pressed to the bridge of his nose. "Tony?"

"Just..." Air gusts out his nose and he risks a look at Steve, his eyes haunted-looking before he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Never mind."

"Tony," Steve says firmly, "you can't just yell at me like that and then expect me to believe you and accept you saying it's nothing."

"I didn't say it's nothing."

"'Never mind' in Tony speak is like saying 'it's nothing.' Which is never nothing!" He glares, feeling a little foolish as he realises his hands are on his hips. He feels mortified when he realises he probably looks like his mother. It does, however, wring a semi-amused grin out of Tony.

"You speak my language now."

"Oh come on. It's not like we haven't worked together for long enough that I know when you say, 'I have work to do' really means that you want to be alone with your machines because you're too wrung out with people to deal with them anymore. And I know when you say, 'I'm not hungry' you really probably are, but it means you want to continue with your work, uninterrupted, but you appreciate the effort people go through to make you take care of yourself. _Tony_, I know you."

Tony drops his eyes, face tensing in thought.

"You do what you have to; I get that. But I wish you'd share more with me. You know that I'm here for you, so whatever you were just yelling about a minute ago, I think I could use a re-explanation."

"Oh for fuck's sake."

Steve blinks.

"You're an idiot. A giant idiot."

"I'm sorry?"

"You _should_ be!" Tony throws up his hands and shakes his head, his second wind coming in strong. "You think you're invincible! The great Captain America!"

"What? To—"

"You're only human, Steve! Superhuman, yeah! But you're only human! And you can't! You can't _do_ shit like that! You have to be _careful_!"

Steve blinks. "Is this about the fight four days ago?"

"Of _course_ it's about the fight four days ago!" Tony yells.

And really _yells_. Tony doesn't yell a whole lot because he doesn't have the voice for it. When he yells, his voice kind of goes up. So he prefers to stick to sarcasm and cutting wit to take people down, not shouting. But he's really shouting at Steve. Voice cracking and everything.

"You can't be stupid about this shit! Otherwise you're going to get yourself killed!"

He can appreciate the irony of this situation. That's for sure. Steve shakes his head. "What, so it's okay to risk your life, but not for me to risk mine?"

"It's _different_," Tony insists, brow furrowed. "You lead the team!"

And suddenly he was furious. He stalked over and grabbed Tony's shoulder, giving them a little shake. "I thought we talked about this, Tony. You are _every__bit_ as valuable to this team, and you are _more_ valuable to me."

Tony scowled. "You don't get it, do you."

"Get what?"

"It'd be okay for _me_ to die—"

"_Tony_!"

"No, let me finish." He turned his gaze up to him, eyes intent and sincere, and so very blue. "You could survive my death, Steve. You could go on. Fight the good fight. Do the soldier thing and. Yeah. You could do it." He paused and sucked in air, eyes flicking away. Voice quiet. "I couldn't survive your death, Steve. It would break me."

"Oh Tony..." The words were hardly more than a gust of air.

Tony looked away completely, talking again. "And it doesn't mean you love me any less than I love you. It just... Jesus. I know that. You're made of stronger stuff. This is... I just. Well. You know I've lost. A lot. Of. Of people. Of stuff. Of respect. And I just... I don't think..."

"Okay! Okay! Jesus, Tony!" He interrupted finally, voice breaking along wit his heart as Tony tried to explain.

He sighed, tension leeching out of him. He settled for meeting Steve's gaze and said with clarity, "I can't do it without you, Steve."

He nodded.

"You can stop. Stop nodding."

He stopped.

"And you can kiss me now."

Steve chuckled lowly and shook his head, letting his hands slide down Tony's arms until they encircled his wrists loosely.

"Just wanted to see if you'd keep following orders."

"Your orders aren't always good."

Tony grinned at him crookedly, expression still holding some of his earlier desperation. "one last one then. If you're going down, survive or make sure I'm right there with you."

"Promise," he lied.

Tony smiled.


	4. Tony Just Wants to Be Good Enough

The problem with Tony Stark is that he just wants to be good enough.

He could have picked any profession. Doctor. Teacher. Stock broker. Lawyer—he would have been one hell of a lawyer. Steve's certain. But he went with physics. Because his dad was in physics, and it was a connection Tony was seeking to make. Something in common with Dad. Who, Steve had learned, was not the same cool, joking guy to Tony that he had been to Steve.

So Tony, to be close to his dad had chosen physics. His little kid brain had picked the thing most likely to connect him to his father and ensure that they have something in common.

For the same reason, brilliant young Tony went to MIT to follow, again, in his father's footsteps. A good four years earlier than his father, which may have been part of the cause of the rift: Howard's son so much smarter than Howard. Maybe that's why he stayed aloof. So as not to be overly-impressed with his son's achievements. So he could hold something over his son's head. And if it couldn't be knowledge, then it may as well be affection. Because what else did Howard have to lord over his son. His son that didn't care about the brain-power. His son who only wanted an authentic 'Well done.' His son who only wanted to be loved.

Steve saw it in every gesture. Every play for power. The same motivations fuelled Tony as Howard. They wanted general approval and for people to rely on them and find them trustworthy.

It was why Tony took over the business. What else was there to do save improve upon what Howard had left Tony, keep the legacy alive, and do his father's name proud. Hence the Jericho. Hence Tony's goings on about big sticks and showing power. Just a small boy with a lot of bluster to show he wasn't afraid and he wanted attention.

It made Steve want to hold him close and reassure him he was worth every dollar to his name and much more. Tony was worth every compliment he never got and every look of admiration from a room full of people and every kind gesture done to him (which were far too few, requiring Steve to pick up the slack).

It was why he decided to quit the weapons business, Steve decided when he'd been told about the event later. Partly, he was sure, because it was certainly galling to be mortally injured by your own creations. (Though that hadn't stopped it from happening again in the future...) But Pepper had told him about Tony's decision and how it was 'right.' And in the modern society, they certainly needed more love and less ways to kill one another. Steve had been told that was very hippy of him. He had to look up the reference.

But Tony knew what was right and what was wrong. And weapons production was wrong. So the decision to halt weapons production and move on to worthier pursuits. Like that renewable energy Tony was always going on about. And the cell phones. It wasn't lame or overdone. Tony's devices were always elegant and well-thought out. He put effort into them, and they were the best on the market. Steve always had a signal.

It was why he decided to join the Avengers. To prove that he could to it all. He could run a company, be a secret super hero, a full time inventor, and work for SHIELD all at the same time. And he would do it pretty darn well. Except for maybe Stark Industries. Because no matter what, it seemed like Pepper always ran more of Stark Industries than Tony did. He just threw money and ideas at it until it went away. But being a part of the Avengers meant he got to prove that Iron Man: Yes; Tony Stark: No; could be changed. And he _was_ good at it. He worked well with the team, helped everyone out in his spare time. Clint's new bow. Natasha's knives. Tony always tried his best, and it warmed Steve's heart when Clint had thanked him profusely, awed by the improvements.

But Tony still tried. And sometimes took it twice as hard when he failed. Even though they all failed at one time or another. But Tony, of course, held himself to his own ridiculous standards. They were such fluid things. For Tony.

He shook his head, watching Tony from across the room during the movie. Tony had snuck in late, sprawling himself across the empty end of the couch. Perfect for viewing while the movie—something about people in prison—while not seeming like it. He couldn't help the small smile on his lips though.

Tony did so much. He made so much _happen_. Like the damage. Whenever there were fights, damage was paid for by the Maria Stark Foundation. Tony's mom's charity. And when he'd found out how much Tony secretly gave away, via the MSF, his jaw had dropped. Tony played a mean stock market game. And he probably played hard and fierce in order for the MSF to have those kinds of funds. Tony gave away lots of money. So much that Steve felt uncomfortable even comprehending it. And he'd spent a lot of time around Tony and Tony's wealth. So when the amounts of money Steve was talking about were obscene in comparison to what Tony spent on his cars, his liquor, and his _technology_? Then the average person might come up with several numbers that could be considered high enough.

So with what he couldn't give with his time, effort, power, smarts, opinion, and name, he gave with money. And when he couldn't do that, he gave it anonymously.

"Did you catch any of the movie?" Tony asked when Steve had cuddled into Tony's bed with him.

"What?"

"You spent the whole time watching me. I was going to start feeling self-conscious," he joked quietly, leaning into Steve's embrace.

Steve nuzzled the back of his neck. "Sure. I saw most of it."

"Was something wrong?"

"Of course not," he assured gently. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"What's the saying about cats and curiosity?"

"I'm neither a cat nor has curiosity ever harmed me! Wait, that's a lie. I know." He chuckled.

"You're everything," Steve said quietly. Tony stilled in his arms, quiet. "I don't think I tell you enough, but you're everything."

"Steve..." Tony said, like he was helpless to say anything else.

"It's fine. I don't want you to say anything. Just listen. You're so important, Tony. And you don't see it. And that's fine. I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

Tony curled in on himself.

"You're important to me. To the Avengers. To the world. You're so good at so many things." Steve kissed the juncture of Tony's neck and shoulders. "You deserve good things."

"No!" Tony gasped out, the word broken. "No I don't, Steve, I—"

"Shut up, Tony." Steve hugged him tighter. "You do so much! How can you not see that."

Mumbling, the words sounded something like 'penance.'

Steve sighed. "I see it. I wanted you to know that too. I see how good you are. How strong you are. How important you are. And not just to me. So don't ever think that you wouldn't be missed. Okay?"

Tony mumbled again.

"Okay, Tony?" He shook him slightly.

"I hear you," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but you don't listen."

"I listen!" Tony turned in his arms. "Where'd all this come from?"

Steve blinked at him, lips quirking up. "You're so special."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Special ed."

"Hey. I don't like that."

"Sorry."

"No, like you mean it. That's not nice."

Sighing, Tony bumped his forehead against Steve's clavicle. "You're right. Sorry. That's not...even in private."

"You're brilliant, and kind, and generous, and special, Anthony Stark." Steve was glad for the faint moonlight coming in the window because it meant he got to see Tony blush like he always did whenever Steve called him his full name. "And don't you dare argue."

Chuckling, Tony nodded. "Fine. Uncle. You win."

"I know. I just hope you know it." Steve cupped Tony's face and kissed his forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," Tony murmured, arms snaking around Steve. "Sleep?"

"Sleep. Good night, Tony."

"Mm... 'night."

Tony may not have really listened to Steve, but the words would percolate. And if Steve said them more frequently, Tony would be more likely to believe them. Tucking the other man's head into the hollow of his neck, Steve smiled and let himself drift off to sleep.


End file.
